BaronAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks

by Golden, Paullett

  She did not reply. Walter stared at her, trying to read her mind. Her face was a mask, unreadable, impenetrable. She was wrong. About everything. The trouble was he had no idea how to convince her.

  “I’m not ready,” she said at last. “It’s not been a full year since I’ve learned of my parentage and of my brother. In a handful of months, my life has changed irrevocably.”

  “So, you need time?” he asked, hopeful. “I’ll wait. I’ll support you in any way I can.”

  She laughed, a hollow sound. “I don’t know if I will ever be ready for your world. Maybe one day, but certainly not now. I need time to understand my past. That may take another month, maybe a year, maybe five years. I can’t allow you to throw away your dreams while waiting for me.”

  “You’re not thinking logically, Lilith. It’s not possible to love someone and not want to be with them. It’s a contradiction. You can’t feel both love and dislike at the same time. It’s either one or the other.”

  “Provoking man,” she said with another laugh. “Maybe men can’t feel contradictory emotions, but women can. I can. I do love you, but I cannot be part of your world, at least not now.”

  “But if you love someone, you’ll stop at nothing to be with them. You’ll move heaven and earth.” He was begging again.

  “Well, then, if you love me, you’ll move heaven and earth to understand that I want to return to the only life I’ve known while I make sense of all that’s happened to me this year. You must let me go, Walter. If you love me, you’ll let me go.”

  “I can’t.”

  She exhaled her frustration.

  “I can’t, and you know I can’t. We have no choice now. We’ve lain together, Lilith. We must marry.”

  “For respectability? I promise I won’t brag to all of my friends,” she said sarcastically.

  “And the baby?”

  She stared at him in wide-eyed horror.

  “Don’t accuse me of being naïve if you’re not going to consider the consequences of what we’ve done,” he said.

  “And you’ve forgotten that I’m a midwife who knows how to prevent unwanted pregnancy. Worry not, Lord Collingwood. You needn’t propose out of obligation for fear of consequences. I’ll not leave a baby on your doorstep.”

  He rose from the chair, closing the distance between them. With hands bracing the arms of her chair, his face inches from hers, he said, “Tell me you don’t mean any of that.”

  Her face crumbled. Her body shook with noisy sobs.

  She took his face into her hands and kissed him, wet cheeks pressed to his, hiccupping lips pursed to his.

  “Walter, Walter, Walter,” she repeated against his mouth. “I love you. I do. I know you didn’t propose out of obligation. I’m so sorry. No baby of ours would ever be unwanted or prevented. I promise to tell you. And if I’m with child, I’ll come to you. We’ll make it work. We’ll find a way. I promise. But for now, please, let me go. I will try to find my way back to you, ready for your world. I do want to be with you. But I don’t want to hurt you or lose myself.”

  He knelt before her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against her bosom. She kissed the top of his head.

  “Observe, my darling,” he said. “I’m moving heaven and earth to let you go because that’s what will make you happy.”

  Chapter 25

  Jasper huffed in contentment, his mistress dutifully scratching behind his ears while he stretched across her lap, his front paws dangling over her legs. He was growing too fast and far too large to be a lapdog anymore. For as long as she did not care, he did not care.

  Today had been a good day. They had played chase in the paddock, his favorite place for exercise, except when she took him for walkies to the river and back. Oh, the scents to explore! Today had been a paddock day. After playing chase, she had hidden treats and bones all around the garden for him to hunt. Too easy. For her amusement, he had circled three times before finding the last bone, although he had known where it was all along.

  As contented as he was, he missed Milli. The night sounds scared her, and she had liked him there, protecting her. But how does a pup tell his mistress he would rather be at Roddam Hall where there was more room to run and play, more people to spoil him, and above all, Milli?

  With a noisy yawn, he buried his nose between her leg and the side of the chair and fell asleep.

  Lilith stretched, feeling sleepy, as well. It had been a good day. She had stayed home with Jasper to complete chores. One of her dresses had needed mending; the laundry needed doing; the cottage needed a thorough dusting and scrub, more so now than before given how much Jasper shed; fresh cakes needed baking. All in all, a good, productive day, without the intrusion of people.

  Jasper had desperately wanted to go for a long walk, but it was far too cold, and Lilith had not the chance to hide doggy treasures along the walk for him to discover. Without something to hunt, he was a restless walker. Thankfully, a run in the paddock behind the cottage had sufficed, though calling him in after the fun ended had been a chore. He was willful, stubborn, and easily distracted. And she loved him for those traits.

  Days at home were the best. It was Lilith and Jasper against the world. No judgement, no expectations, just peace and quiet.

  The return to Allshire had not been unpleasant. Many of her patients welcomed her return. Even the children at the orphanage had run in unruly fashion to greet her.

  Not all were so welcoming, though. More people than not were surprised by her return, as though they assumed she had left to live with her brother or to whatever fate. There had been a good share of embarrassment when she first arrived. Some villagers, from friends to acquaintances, averted their eyes when she passed. Others made a point to look notably busy when she approached or were polite but made excuses not to talk long.

  She would not say doors slammed in her face, but she would say doors that were already closed remained closed, even when she knew people were at home. It was disconcerting.

  Worse, Miss Tolkey, now Mrs. Sands, though Lilith had not been invited to the wedding, pretended she did not exist, which made teaching days arduous. Harry had not come around, and she had not been to church since her return. It was only a matter of time when he would request she move. She expected each day to be the day. After a careful counting of her savings, she believed she had enough to secure lodgings if she could find something available in time.

  Truthfully, an alarming number of her patients had transferred to Mrs. Sands’ services, though none had been openly critical of Lilith. As predicted by Lady Graham, all local gentry had withdrawn their need for her services.

  Lilith was undaunted. She knew her return would be difficult and judged harshly, so nothing came as a surprise. This was still where she chose to be. With focus, dedication, and determination, Lilith would build her reputation once more. Such would be easier to do among people who knew her than trying to earn the respect from those in fashionable society.

  With each passing day, she became more confident about her decision. The known was safer than the unknown, after all.

  The first week, though, had been unbearable. It started with the heartache of rejecting her chance for something greater, her chance for love and happiness. She wept day in and day out. This metamorphosed into a cycle of self-loathing, for in her attempts to find happiness, she had repeated her mother’s sins by giving herself to a man outside the sanctity of marriage. The words of Harry’s sermon repeated daily in her head. She had sinned, just as he predicted. She had been a whore in her father’s house, just as he predicted. She was a fallen, ruined woman, just as he predicted.

  When her monthly courses came during the second week, she wept even harder. All her prayers about unplanned consequences had been answered, and yet she wept. However much of a relief it should have been, she knew only despair. There were no words to explain w
hy she wept, only emptiness. With wordless yearning, she mourned the child she would not have. She had yet to write to Walter with the news. A letter had been started many times, but she could not write the words. What would she say? How were such letters written? Let silence be his answer.

  The third week was easier. The passage of time became a balm to her wounds. She hoped Walter felt the same. Undoubtedly, being away from her had helped him see he had made a timely escape. Lilith should never have allowed him to court her. Was he laughing now at the thought of her hobnobbing with lords and ladies?

  Time and time again, she reminded herself she could never be happy in his world.

  Though, was she happy in this one?

  Filling the Great Chamber with sweltering heat, the fire did nothing to aid Walter’s runny nose. He wallowed in misery. Sniveling misery. The latest sneezing fit ended five minutes ago after ten consecutive achoos.

  He sniveled—miserably—into a handkerchief. Men ought not catch colds. Such conditions were for women with delicate constitutions, not fit and healthy men. Continuing to row on the lake every morning despite frigid winter temperatures was to blame, or so said the physician who had wanted to bleed him dry.

  Walter gazed out the multi-paned window, surveying the sprawling countryside around Trelowen, the spire of a church peeking above distant trees. He had missed the view. He had also missed his chair, one of his many purchases from his Grand Tour, with its carved and gilded beech and its tapestry of wool and silk. It was French Rococo, the motif of birds and garlands, a complete set with matching wall tapestry and footstool, on which his blanketed feet now propped.

  Nestling low into the sunken cushion, he leaned his head against the chair back. An ornamental plaster ceiling stared back at him. With a sniff, he closed his eyes, desiring to see nothing except the back of his eyelids.

  This was all her fault.

  If she had married him, he would be enjoying his honeymoon rather than suffering from a cold. This chill was her fault. He would not have needed to take out his frustrations on the lake had she been here.

  And dash it all, but when was he to be rid of her memory?

  He had done all he could since arriving home not to think of her, including telling his solicitor not to breathe another word of that dreaded Colling Orphanage. Though there were not many entertainments in the country during winter, he had made a point to attend them all. His inability to enjoy them was surely her fault, too.

  The long journey from Northumberland to Devon had given him ample time to think of nothing but her, as had the conversation of his mother, a relentless, chattering interrogation that plagued the drive. His uncle at least had the courtesy not to join in the inquisition. What he needed now was to purge himself of her.

  He hated Lilith for seducing him and knew her promises to be empty. She would have said anything to get out of his bedchamber and escape his petulant groveling. What a loathsome creature she must have thought him. He had begged and bribed, cajoled and threatened. Of course, she would have pandered to him to shut him up. She was an artful seductress, an enchantress.

  God help him, but he loved her.

  No, he hated her, he reminded himself. He had been a puppet on her string. To hell with her! Did she think he would wait for months and years for her to decide if he was good enough for her? If she had wanted him, she would have accepted him. The rector had been right about her. Adam’s first wife indeed.

  Never mind that love making took two willing partners, and that he had wanted to be with her as much as, if not more than, she had wanted to be with him.

  No, he was a victim of witchery. A gentleman would not have acted with such impropriety unless bewitched.

  After he conquered this blasted cold, he would not sit around and wallow. During the coming Season, he would make a determined effort to find a bride. The girl need only be tolerable. And blonde. Oh, and short. Add youthfully insipid.

  At the start of the new year, he would write to Lilith to be sure. Perhaps she would have realized her error in judgment and come running into his arms. Oh, hell.

  Achoo.

  A new sneezing fit began, disrupting his self-loathing.

  Chapter 26

  Despite her best efforts, life in Allshire did not improve. With each new day and each passing week, fewer doors opened to her and fewer people smiled. People she had known for years averted their eyes when she waved. The few patients she retained failed to answer the door when she went around for their routine checkups. It did not take a genius to realize her reputation was tarnished. No amount of polish would renew the shine.

  Unbeknownst to her, the emptiness of her pew at church had been noted.

  Speculation was rife.

  Mrs. Tilley whispered to Mrs. Owens over their embroidery one afternoon that she suspected Miss Lilith Chambers was outraged by the marriage between her young friend and the rector, for Mrs. Tilley had it on good authority that the midwife had sought with zeal the position of rector’s wife. When Mrs. Simmons heard this from Mrs. Owens, she said she had noticed the two women no longer spoke—embittered for being usurped, perhaps?

  Mr. Simmons set his wife straight that it was not because of the good Reverend Sands that she stopped attending, but rather her guilt over the sins of the flesh. Mr. Young agreed, for he had seen with his own two eyes Lord Collingwood leaving her cottage on more than one occasion—alone. Mrs. Young concurred and told Mrs. O’Connell about the time she saw them tucked cozily behind a tree in questionable proximity—alone. Had they not danced three times at the assembly, asked Mrs. Staple over her tea with Miss Fairweather.

  Mrs. Hill let it slip they had breakfasted together at the inn when decent folks were still abed—an unusual occasion, that, for why were they both awake and together so early unless they had not yet parted company from the night before? Mr. Hill defended that he was certain his lordship was courting her. Mr. Nobles assured him it was a silly notion for what man of such importance would court an orphan of questionable lineage? No, there was havey-cavey business being conducted in the good rector’s cottage that would not be tolerated in their respectable village.

  Miss Lowell told her mama it was all to be expected, for Lilith was an orphan after all. Mr. Lowell said to Mrs. Lowell it was most peculiar the woman did not go to live with her brother who seemed to take pity on her, though if he thought about it, it was not so peculiar after all. Miss Lowell chimed in to ask why it would not be peculiar when she heard from Miss Carmichael that the brother had introduced her as a Lady Lilith.

  Oh, yes, speculation was rife.

  And life in Allshire became increasingly difficult to bear.

  But life had a funny way of nudging a person in unexpected directions, or so Lilith thought when she reflected weeks later. The nudge occurred one stormy evening.

  A bright flash spotlighted her face, waking her from a restless night’s sleep. Lilith had been dreaming of serpents in her garden.

  Blinking, she tried to adjust her vision to the darkness of night, syncopated by blinding light. A storm raged, raindrops beating a tattoo against the glass. Then she heard an insistent tapping, a tattarrattat easily mistaken for rain, only lower pitched. Straining against the chorus of rain, she listened. There it was again. A knock. Someone was knocking at her door. Good heavens. At this time of night? In the middle of a storm?

  Jasper, too, heard the knock, and with his baying bark, catapulted from his bed by the stairs.

  Unsure she had the wherewithal to face an emergency, Lilith sat up and lit the candle at her bedside. Her mind raced to think of any patients who might be delivering soon. No one came to mind. Had there been an accident? Was there danger of losing a babe? Donning her night robe and slippers, candle in hand, she padded downstairs, Jasper’s bay deafening in the small space. Her heart pounded, and her eyes darted to the midwifery bag at the ready by the door. It would take her but a
minute to dress if needed.

  The knock persisted, urgent and heavy handed.

  For a heart-wrenching moment, she wondered if it could be Walter.

  Opening the door, Lilith gasped. “Harriette!”

  Harriette Wimple, née Ains, stood in the doorway, drenched and shaking, nothing but a thin shawl about her shoulders to protect against the freezing rain. Moving to one side, Lilith ushered the girl inside. Jasper nudged Lilith, trying to sniff the newcomer.

  “Back, Jasper. Sit.” Lilith pointed to her usual chair.

  The rarely obedient Jasper pranced to the chair and heaved a squat on the floor, his tail thumping.

  Tending to the immediate took precedence. Lilith set the candle on the table and grabbed the blanket she kept tucked by her fireside chair. She wrapped Harriette with the blanket and rubbed the girl’s arms with vigor.

  A tear streaked, pale face stared back at her, looking nothing like the vibrant young girl she knew. The cut lip and bruise forming on her cheekbone gave Lilith pause. She stopped rubbing and squeezed the girl into a hug, wet hair soaking part of Lilith’s robe.

  “Are you here to fetch me? Do I need to dress?” Lilith asked.

  The girl shook her head, her body shivering against Lilith’s.

  Guiding Harriette further into the room, she tucked her into a chair next to the darkened fireplace.